My office sits on the top floor of a six-story building. By “office,” of course, I mean a depression-gray cubical perfectly engineered to limit all exterior views despite being inside a building with all-glass walls.
Most mornings, I take the elevator from the garage level to the sixth floor. This should be a short 60-second trip, but it typically takes anywhere from 5-7 minutes because we are a society of discourteous savages with zero respect for elevator etiquette. You see, not one morning passes where some FitBit-wearing taintclown doesn’t enter the elevator on the first floor and press the button for the second floor as if this is perfectly acceptable behavior. Or worse, the elevator stops between the lobby and six to admit an anarchist who then pushes the button for the floor directly above the one they were just on.
WHAT THE GOATFUCKNG CHRIST ARE WE DOING HERE, PEOPLE?! CAN’T WE WAIT UNTIL TRUMP ACTUALLY WINS BEFORE DESCENDING INTO COMPLETE LAWLESSNESS?!
Enough. Here are the only valid reasons for using the elevator to travel up or down one floor:
• You have a medical condition which makes taking the stairs difficult
• You are over the age of 60
• You are carrying a significant amount of food or beverages (or other heavy objects weighing in excess of 25 pounds)
• You have an ovulating triceratops strapped to your back which prohibits you from navigating narrow stairwells
• You are a BernieBro who enjoys delaying inevitability for no discernible reason. WE’RE GONNA GET TO THE SIXTH FLOOR WHETHER YOU PRESS ALL THE BUTTONS IN BETWEEN OR NOT, ANDROMEDA!
• You are filming an extremely low-budget Elf remake on your Zune
• The stairs have collapsed due to a Cloverfield-style alien attack and the elevator is your only chance to escape alive
• Alan Rickman’s ghost takes your wife hostage during the company Christmas party and you must take out his Fabio-looking crew to save her
• You soil yourself in the elevator and must access the nearest bathroom immediately. (NOTE: You must shit your pants in the elevator for this excuse to be valid. Don’t drop a load in your pants then try to squeeze in the elevator. Nice try, bro. Duck walk your poopy ass up the stairs.)
• You are listening to back-alley EDM music on your phone at full volume without headphones. Get the fuck off the elevator, preferably between floors
• You find out that you’ve won the PowerBall while in the elevator, and the local lottery office happens to be on the next floor
• You’re in a space elevator with Kathy Griffin, PewDIePie and nine Klansmen, and you’re all heading to Phobos. Exit immediately. Never will the vast vacuum of space seem so appealing.
Stop taking the elevator one floor. You’re turning this country into the society from Wall-E. Use the goddamn stairs. That I didn’t include this fuckery in last year’s Pet Peeve bracket will haunt me until the end of my days.